


Tooth and Law

by FayJay



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-05
Updated: 2009-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayJay/pseuds/FayJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Spike drowns his sorrows after losing the Gem of Amarra, and Wolfram and Hart make him an offer he can't refuse. Set after 'In the Dark', Season 1 of AtS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tooth and Claw

No more bloody partners from now on. Definitely not. People always let you down one way or another and he was damned if he was going to be made a fool of again. Well, he was pretty much damned anyway, but that wasn't the point. From now on it was going to be just him, a lone wolf, a silent shadow, your worst nightmare made flesh, a flash of fists and fangs in the darkness. A bloody kiss before dying. None of this Laurel and Hardy bollocks.

This whole martyrdom thing really, really got on his wick. Hanging there like bloody Saint Sebastian, or whoever that fella with all the arrows in his gut was, like a poncy great hedgehog. With hair gel. It just killed him, all this turn-the-other-cheek bullshit Angelus was pulling these day. Time was when Angelus would have flayed the cheeks right off a person and stood laughing in their blood. He realised as soon as he'd got Angel strung up that somehow the balance of power was still with the older vampire, and that just pissed him off no end. Thought: _He's just loving this - The Scourge of Europe doing penance, all "look-at-me,-I'm-so-sorry-for-all-the-maiming-and-butchery,-look-at-me-hanging-here-all-beautiful-and-guilt-ridden,-paying-for-my-sins." Bastard._

Remembered strutting around while that treacherous fucking torture demon did his thing, taunting his Sire and waiting for the rush to come - the anticipated exhilaration at having the poncy great lummox trussed up and at his mercy, being able to punish him at leisure for all this shit.

But the rush never came. Which really sucked, because it ought to mean something that he had Angelus in chains and screaming. (God knows he'd spent enough hours bleeding in manacles himself, suffering for his Sire's pleasure. Well, Grand-Sire if you wanted to be pedantic about it. But still.)

It shouldn't feel so - cheap. So futile.

That's for Dru, you bastard, he thought to himself as Marcus obligingly jammed a hot poker into Angel's smooth white flesh. (Creepy little bugger, that Marcus. Treacherous , creepy little bugger. Christ, you really couldn't trust anyone.) That's for taking her from me overnight, wiping out a century of her and me just by walking back in the bloody door. And that's for leaving us in the first place. That's for leaving me, you self-righteous sonofabitch. I'm going to have that gem and I'm going to walk in the sunshine and maim and slaughter and then go for a nice walk on the beach and eat ice-cream, while you're lurking in the shadows like the whiny little poof you are.

That's for leaving me.

It all tasted of ashes. And then Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber arrived and it all went to Hell in a hand-basket.

"O pos. Make it a double. No, bugger that for a game of soldiers - I'll have a large Jack Daniels."

Spike had searched every inch of the damned warehouse, and there was no denying that Marcus had stolen the gem. Accordingly, he had spent the remaining hours of sunlight in a futile search for Marcus (because even though he knew perfectly well that the wretched vamp would be living it up in direct sunlight somewhere, he had to do something and prowling bad temperedly through shadowy alleyways and sewers was the best he could come up with) culminating in his arrival at the first demon bar he could find, gem-less, Marcus-less and thoroughly pissed off. It was early evening yet, but there were quite a few customers already - mostly demons but with a sprinkling of thrill-seeking humans. Bar snacks. Nice.

Ramon, the bartender, looked at the vampire quizzically to see if he planned on changing his mind again in a hurry.

"You could go for a cocktail - best of both worlds," he suggested helpfully. "Bloody Mary's popular, but some guys like rum or Jack Daniels with blood, something like that?"

Spike, rummaging bleakly through his pockets for a lighter, looked up at the bartender with a sudden smile.

"Hell yes. I'll have a large Bloody Mary. None of that Pig's blood crap, mind you, I want the good stuff. . . do you do buffalo wings?"

* * * 

He'd heard about this karaoke lark, of course, but this was the first time Spike had found himself actually in a karaoke bar. Didn't realise that demons went in for that sort of thing, but then there were a helluva lot of demons in Japan, now he came to think about it, so it maybe figured. There were presently three Skilosh demons clustered round the microphone solemnly singing "I've got you under my skin" with a complete disregard for little things like notes, rhythm and melody. Spike was pissing himself laughing at them when a green demon in a shiny red suit sidled up to him.

"Sorry, Cheekbones, but I'm going to have to have you thrown out if you don't play nice with the other kids," said the demon good-naturedly. "I mean, you're right, you're right - they've got all the musical sophistication of a moose in heat. A tone-deaf moose in heat. But if you don't keep it down I'll be forced to have you kicked out on your cute little ass. And I'd much rather be able to admire it from across the room, so please try to restrain yourself a little, precious."

Spike considered taking offense, but realised on balance that he really couldn't be arsed to. It was so much easier to stay here than to get into a big row and then slouch off in search of another boozer. He looked the green bloke up and down thoughtfully.

"This your place then, Horny?" he inquired.

The green demon positively pouted. "You'd better not start using soubriquets like that unless you expect me to get all Mae West," he said, batting his eyelashes. "Just call me The Host. You're new in town, I take it?"

Spike nodded. "Just passing through." He nodded over at the Skilosh demons, who were nearing the end of their song. "Mate, I gotta tell you - I've seen and heard a lot of horrifying things in my time - been responsible for most of them, actually - but this really takes the biscuit. Don't it drive you up the wall?" The Host gave a little grimace.

"Well, I'm not exactly expecting any of them to be discovered by A &amp; R men for a major label anytime soon - although Koth over there has a gorgeous voice, sounds more like Aretha than Aretha does." Spike followed the green demon's gaze to stare incredulously at something with pincers like a crab and entirely too many legs. "But music's music. And besides, they need to sing for me if I'm going to read them properly." Spike took another sip of his drink while he processed this statement.

"So what are you meant to be then, pet, some kind of demon fortune teller? You got yourself a set of crystal balls hidden in that red suit?"

"Give the boy a gold star," replied the green demon, accepting a glass from the bartender. "Ramon, you are a treasure. Mmm...just the way I like it. Yes, my pointy-toothed friend, I do tell fortunes, but as for the contents of my Calvins, crystal or otherwise, that's for me to know and you to wonder about. We're quite the fresh prince of no air, aren't we? But yes, I do have a modest little gift from the Powers That Be. I try to set people on their paths - but they have to sing first for me to be able to read them properly, so if you'll excuse me, I have to go and have a word with the three stooges over there now that they've finished delighting us with their musical stylings." He raised his voice as he headed towards the stage. "Wasn't that marvellous, boys and girls? Let's hear it for Zan, Gath and Hayzar! And now I think that Liz is going to give us 'I need a Hero'."

Spike watched The Host depart and thought about Paths and about The Powers that Be. While he thought, he ordered another drink from the obliging bartender. Liz, who turned out to be far less feminine and far more scaly than one might have hoped, mounted the stage and segued valiantly into the song. The very best that could be said for Liz's performance was that it was enthusiastic, but Spike contented himself with an expression of incredulity broken by the occasional contemptuous snort rather than actually laughing out loud this time. He was thinking.

The Bloody Mary was bloody good, no question about it. He had another. And then another.

* * * 

Actually, Spike really couldn't understand why he hadn't tried karaoke before now. The spotlight, the attention, the opportunity to posture and strut with a microphone...it could have been designed expressly for him. His rendition of "My Way" would've done Sid proud. He'd moved onto beers and was holding a bottle of Czech Pilsner (hated the goddamned Czechs, but they did know a lot about beer) in one hand and a cigarette pinched between two fingers of the other, which was wrapped round the microphone. He punctuated his song with alternating slugs of beer and smoke. He felt terrific - talk about catharsis, all those whinging sods on the talk shows who thought they had dysfunctional families just wanted to get a microphone and yell at the top of their lungs. God, he was buzzed!

The audience - who may have made the mistake of expecting an homage to Mr Sinatra rather than to Mr Vicious - seemed slightly shell shocked when Spike finished. Or it could be that he'd rendered them temporarily deaf. After a slight pause they began to applaud hesitantly, possibly in the hopes it would appease him and get him off the stage. It worked. In a much more ebullient frame of mind, Spike bounced over to the green demon and flung himself into the chair next to The Host to get his fortune told.

The Host looked at the blond vampire narrowly over the rim of his glass.

"My eardrums are going to take weeks to recover from that," he said in an even voice. "And as for your aura - move over Northern Lights, that's all I can say. Aren't we the pretty little poster child for Oedipal complexes? Although there's definitely a splash of Electra in there too...either way, I certainly wouldn't want to be there for Christmas get-togethers at your place, honey."

Spike shrugged cheerfully and swigged his beer. "We're vampires, mate. It's not exactly 'The Waltons', you know. But sod the lot of 'em - I'm not a pack animal, I'm a man-eating demon, for Christ's sake - a solitary predator, a lone wolf. . . I'm a goddamned tiger. So tell me my fortune, Kermit - but it'd better not involve meeting a tall dark stranger and taking a long journey overseas, 'cause I've been there, done that and splattered blood all over the sodding T-shirt. OK?"

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much. . . newsflash, sugar, you aren't over them. You're never going to be completely over them. But I'm not seeing any tall, dark strangers in your immediate future." The Host smiled. "Quite the opposite, in fact. Anyway, you're about to, ahem, come into money from an unexpected source and I'm also getting some powerful unfinished business vibes, and I do mean powerful. I'm seeing heartbreak round the corner - there's a pretty little blonde thing you've left in Sunnydale, isn't there? She's really gotten under your skin, that one." Spike looked bemused.

"Harm? Silly little cow. I mean, she goes like a bunny but I've never met a more irritating female in my entire unlife. And if you'd met my immediate family you would realise that really is saying something. I haven't broken her heart. Tried to stake it, mind you, but I haven't broken it. I don't think. Actually, I really don't give a toss whether I've broken her stupid bleeding heart. And as for her breaking mine - you have got to be having a laugh, pal. The hell with Sunnydale - I'm not going back there anytime in the next hundred years." He scowled petulantly. "Flaming Slayer's in Sunnydale, isn't she? Why would I go back there?"

The Host directed a very knowing look in Spike's direction.

"Whatever you say, Cheekbones. I just say what I see. And I'm seeing some interesting times ahead and some pretty big changes. Quite the makeover, power-wise. As for the Slayer - well, the good news is that a whole lot of misery is heading her way and I promise that you are going to be right there when it happens. And what's more, you're going to be there when she dies."

Spike nearly dropped his beer.

"Dies?" he exclaimed, astounded. "Slutty the Vampire Slayer is going to die? Soon?"

The Host's expression was difficult to read, but he nodded. Spike felt a surge of exhilaration laced with...something else that he couldn't just put his finger on at the minute.

"Ha!" he said, because it seemed appropriate. "And I'm going to be there? Am I going kill her?"

"More or less," said the green demon carefully. Spike was stunned. For some reason he didn't feel as delighted as he'd expected to in this situation, but he thought that was probably just because it hadn't sunk in yet.

"Ha! That'll bloody well teach him to pinch my bird, the mopey great pansy! Nice one, Kermit! Anything else I should know?" The Host looked thoughtful for a moment and then smiled.

"I know you've got your black leather panties in a bunch about losing that gem and missing out on all those sunrises - but I can tell you that once The Slayer is dead you will have nothing to fear from Dawn. You need. To get back. To Sunnydale. Am I making myself clear yet?"

The vampire was speechless. His forgotten cigarette had burned down to nothing while the green demon revealed Spike's glittering future. An awed expression on his face, Spike downed the last of his beer, stubbed out the smouldering fag butt and then rose a little unsteadily to his feet.

"Yeah, clear as crystal, pet. Right," he said purposefully. "I'll be off then. Places to go, people to kill."

The Host watched Spike stalk off through the bar, black duster flapping importantly, and grinned to himself.

"I should write fortune cookies," he said smugly. "You're certainly going to be one surprised bunny...but it's what you want, really. You just don't know it yet." He glanced down at his empty glass disapprovingly and waved at the approaching bartender. "Oh, Ramon? Another...oh, you read my mind. If I'm not careful you're going to be doing the fortune telling around here."

Sipping his fresh Seabreeze appreciatively, The Host turned his attention back to the stage.


	2. Truth and Law

The human caught up with him just as he reached the door of Caritas.

"Spike? William the Bloody?" He spun round at the sound of his name and the leather duster flared out around him dramatically, swirling like the cape of some pantomime villain. He found himself facing a very pretty morsel with floppy fair hair a touch dishevelled and breathing a little too hurried. From the looks of him the human had jumped to his feet and dashed across the bar in hot pursuit when Spike swept out. Which was interesting. He looked into eyes as blue as his own and the misguidedly fearless expression in them amused the vampire no end.

"That's me. I don't remember asking for a carry-out," said Spike with a wolfish smile, glancing appreciatively up and down. His gaze took in a very self-possessed young man in a bland but expensive-looking suit of the darkest charcoal, just this side of black. He could feel the boy's heat bleeding into the night air a few handspans away and smell the faintest trace of bourbon on his warm breath. "And so prettily wrapped, too. Honestly, these fellas think of everything. I could get used to LA." The boy paused, careful to remain inside the threshold of Caritas. "Now, I'm gonna assume that you aren't actually suicidal - you don't smell suicidal - which I do find intriguing. You've got 5 seconds to convince me not to pull you out of that sanctuary by your tailored lapels and eat you."

"I'm a lot more valuable to you alive than I would be dead," replied the human smoothly, laugh lines at the corners of his cornflower-blue eyes crinkling with a self-assured, we-can-do-business-here kind of smile. Spike was no Henry Higgins, but he caught a slight inflection in the boy's voice and identified it automatically as Southern, somewhere or other. They had had some fine times in the South, he and Dru...such an easy-going part of the world. They really understood about sin down there - it was almost like being in Europe. Spike eyed the human curiously, realising that he knew the vampire by name but still didn't really smell afraid, a reaction which Spike did find a tad puzzling.

"I represent a law firm called Wolfram and Hart and we have been following your recent activities here in LA with great interest," continued the young man, proffering a creamy little rectangle of expensive card with delicately raised lettering.

Lindsey McDonald. Girl's name - but he was pretty enough for it. And he knew it, the cocky little bugger.

"I believe we have an enemy in common - the vampire formerly known as Angelus?"

Spike scowled, but his curiosity was piqued.

"You make him sound like a sodding pop star, pet - and I'm here to tell you that Angelus couldn't carry a tune if his unlife depended on it."

Lindsey McDonald smiled again and Spike found himself entertaining thoughts that were rather more elaborate than a straightforward kill. Hmm. Perhaps a dinner date.

"That's just what I meant - you know all about Angelus. Angel. And regrettably our research so far has thrown up far less information than we'd have hoped. Scourge of Europe, trail of elaborate carnage spread over several continents·then nothing. Until he pops up in LA and starts immolating our clients. We had rather been hoping that you were going to kill him, actually. Spike - may I call you Spike, or do you prefer William?"

Damn, the lawyer had a cute smile. Insincere, but cute as hell. This evening really was shaping up to be as sweet as the preceding day had been bitter. Spike cocked his head to one side thoughtfully and stepped a little closer to the boy. The tip of one wax-pale finger pressed gently against Lindsey's lips, stilling the stream of confident lawyerspeak in mid-flow and prompting the tiniest shiver from the human. Lindsey's jaw came forward pugnaciously and under the businesslike demeanour Spike knew the boy's muscles were tensing, readying themselves for fight or flight. His smile broadened and he traced a dainty line around the boy's mouth once, twice, then trailed his fingers down over the warm flesh to cup Lindsey's throat and rest against his Adam's apple, savouring the hot flutter of the pulse against his palm. Neither of them moved. After a very long moment Spike lowered his hand to straighten the plain blue tie and pulled the silk slowly through his fingers, tugging the boy's upper body out of the doorway and towards him. He inclined his own head gracefully and when he spoke the lawyer's hair was tickling his nose as his cold lips lightly brushed against Lindsey's ear.

"I think I'd prefer 'Lord and Master', but we can go with 'Spike' for the moment." He released his grip on the silk and felt it slither through his fingers as the lawyer stepped back into the threshold as fast as he could. Spike smiled guilelessly at the boy and added in a friendly tone, "So remind me again just why I shouldn't be addressing you as 'Dinner'?"

Lindsey swallowed, but to his credit his voice remained perfectly even.

"Spike, then. My firm can offer you an embarrassingly large amount of money in exchange for a couple of hours of your valuable time. We know you by reputation, Spike. As well as being a legendary figure in your own right - and from what I've read a damn sight harder than Angelus - you're a leading authority on this guy. The leading authority on him, in fact. We know how to reward expertise like that." Another smile.

Harder than Angelus - bloody damned right! Two Slayers, ta very much. Two.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, pet," said Spike aloud, gracing the lawyer with a rakish grin. "Alright, I'm interested. How do you want to do this?"

It was all very professional, reflected Spike, impressed in spite of himself. No sooner had he agreed than a limo had pulled up at the curb and half a dozen large humans with stakes and stun-guns had bleeding well materialised out of nowhere, making him profoundly grateful that he hadn't given in to his initial impulse and just bitten the cocky little cowboy. He made a mental note not to underestimate this firm in a hurry. God forbid The Slayer should ever get her hands on this kind of funding.

They certainly did have a way of doing things in LA.

The limousine came complete with a selection of heavily armed gorillas but also contained a minibar stocked with all manner of things, including JD and a choice of blood types available chilled or body-temperature. Spike poured himself a slug of O pos (very fresh indeed and spicy with fear - none of your bland blood donor crap, this) and settled in to enjoy the ride to Wolfram &amp; Hart's offices. This was, as they said, the life. Or unlife. Whatever.

Lindsey McDonald sat opposite him, grinning smugly. Spike was starting to feel a very powerful urge to do something about that grin. That kind of confidence really was just begging to be brought down a peg or two - and the lawyer was really quite ridiculously cute. Moreover he absolutely knew for a fact that Angelus would want this one - and because he was playing the martyred Soul-boy these days the silly bugger wouldn't have done anything about it. But he'd have wanted to if he'd set eyes on him. Oh yes indeed.

Irresistible.

Spike beamed. It was about goddamned time that things started going his way.

* * * 

The interview lasted an hour or so. Lindsey and an older bloke called Manners plied Spike with fresh blood, showed him a tidy pile of high denomination dollar bills - having accurately gauged his approach to bank accounts - and then asked him a lorry-load of questions about Angelus. Several of the heavily armed flunkies hovered around threateningly in the background in case he thought about sodding off with the cash before he'd given them the information they wanted.

Spike lounged in a leather chair, feet propped up on the expensive-looking table as he blew smoke across at the lawyers and idly wondered how they'd look with their skin hanging off in bloody tatters. He took in the view of LA by night appreciatively, and answered about half of the questions honestly - the rest of the answers he invented at random for the hell of it, because he was getting bored. And because he really didn't like the lawyers. Granted he didn't like anyone much, but he particularly didn't like the way these humans seemed so bloody confident around him - like nobody had explained the whole food-chain idea to them properly. That was really starting to piss him off.

"Who is he afraid of?" Manners asked. Spike was a bit stumped by that one.

"Tricky, mate," he said. "I think he's too thick to be scared of most things. I mean, time was I'd have said The Slayer, and generally Slayers are pretty much your best bet against vamps. She don't scare me, mind, 'cause I know I could take her any time I fancied - I've bagged me a brace of Slayers already, I have. Might go for the hat trick soon."

Holland's smile didn't quite conceal his impatience.

"But you don't think he's scared of The Slayer?"

"Hell no. He used to date her."

Spike was speaking to Manners, who was evidently the Alpha male around here, but his eyes kept wandering back to Lindsey McDonald. The momentary expression of discomfiture that the boy had worn outside Caritas was long gone - here on his home territory he radiated confidence. Spike was itching to do something about that.

"Mind you, there is another Slayer hanging around these days, right little wild child apparently - but I understand she's in a coma, so that's not much help. Hmm. No, your best bet is to use The Curse - although he's gonna be on his guard now, so it won't be easy."

Holland's eyes lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree then.

"The Curse?" That had made Spike laugh out loud. His attention was wholly focused on Manners for a moment.

"Bloody hell, you're having me on. You know, 'The Curse?' One moment of true happiness blah blah blah whoops where's my soul gone, could've sworn I had it a minute ago, oh well, never mind, I'll just nip out and start another Apocalypse·" Spike's thoughts went back to Sunnydale and Dru and he scowled. "Actually, Angelus is almost as big a pain in the arse as Soul-boy, to be honest, so you might not want to go there."

"And what exactly constitutes a moment of true happiness for Angelus?" asked Manners hungrily. Spike raised one of his eyebrows and stubbed his smouldering fag end out on the polished surface of the table, enjoying the lawyer's imperfectly-concealed wince.

"Same as the rest of us, mate. Unfortunately my Sire's well aware of that and currently wallowing up to his neck in guilt for all the fun he had last time he misplaced his soul. All that pent up sexual tension is getting channelled into saving the world, for Christ's sake·when all the big oaf really wants is to get laid."

He couldn't help it, his eyes went to Lindsey McDonald then and he smiled broadly.

"Pathetic, isn't it? Unfortunately the only girls he's ever really fallen for have been The Slayer and his Sire. And he staked his Sire, so she's pretty much off the menu these days. Basically you need to find a mouthy little blonde piece who can kick his arse into the middle of next week and he'll be putty in your hands."

It was ridiculously easy. A few more questions and then they waved him off into the night with his pockets full of hundred dollar bills. He stalked purposefully away and then promptly doubled back on himself and found the underground car-park. There were guards, of course, as he'd expected - three humans and one demon. In an oddly nostalgic gesture he left the broken bodies propped up in front of their little TV, staring at 'The Cosby Show' through dull, lifeless eyes - it was the sort of tableau Angelus would have appreciated, back in the day.

Although he'd undoubtedly prefer it to include a couple of eviscerated nuns, the mad bastard.

Spike switched off the CCTV cameras and sauntered on into the parking lot, then found a handy spot near Lindsey's car - the lawyer's scent was unmistakable - and cheerfully lit up a battered fag while he settled back to wait. Couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

Easy as pie.

* * * 

Lindsey looked mad as hell. No more charmingly cocky grins, but he certainly wasn't pissing his pants in terror either - he was positively incandescent with rage at having been caught off balance so easily. Spike was pleasantly surprised - hadn't really expected the pretty little paper-pusher to have so much backbone, but the lawyer was doing his level best to kick the shit out of his attacker.

It was always going to be a spectacularly one-sided fight, what with the whole supernatural strength thing Spike had going for him, but you really had to give the boy points for trying. Neither of them spoke a word - Lindsey clearly registered that this was not something he could talk his way out of and didn't even try, which sent him further up in Spike's estimation. He was no Slayer, but he got some perfectly good blows in. If he'd managed to concentrate on trying to escape he might even have managed to make a break for it at one point - but he was just too damned mad to concentrate on the very real possibility of imminent death. He seemed to be genuinely under the impression that he could win this encounter if he kept fighting hard enough. Balls of solid steel.

Spike could smell the rage and frustration rolling off Lindsey, mixed with a heady dash of the arousal he'd first scented outside Caritas - but precious little fear.

Oh, yes, Angelus was going to want this one badly.

The moment came, as Spike had known it would, when he had the lawyer pressed to the wall by the whole hard length of his body, both hands pinioned together above his head. Fierce blue eyes with a trace of something else in them met his amused gaze and Lindsey squirmed furiously in his grip, his human legs rubbing warmly against Spike's denim-encased thighs. And with the two of them pressed so closely together there was no disguising the fact that Spike wasn't the only one who was thoroughly turned on. Spike grinned.

Lindsey bit his own lower lip - such a lusciously full mouth, thought Spike approvingly - and twisted ineffectually again, nostrils flaring. The friction was delicious - Spike ground his hips into the boy and laughed as he glared helplessly up at the vampire, breathing hard. With an expression of sheer defiant contempt the lawyer jerked his chin up to expose his throat.

"Go on then, you fucker," he said furiously, through gritted teeth.

Balls of solid bloody steel, thought Spike delightedly, and kissed him instead.

Oh, and it was lovely the way Lindsey froze in sheer astonishment when the vampire's cool mouth closed over his, when the vampire's cool tongue licked his warm human lips gently (gently!) and insinuated its way between them to taste the sweet, slippery burn of bourbon. Spike drew the knuckles of his free hand softly down the lawyer's cheek, the barest whisper of a caress, and felt the faint scratchiness of stubble that wasn't yet quite visible snagging his skin.

And a beat later Lindsey was kissing him back.

It was a fierce kiss, a possessive, angry, combative kiss - like Lindsey was trying to carry the fight right on into the knot of swirling wet heat that joined their bodies. The gutsy little sod was actually biting Spike's lips damn near hard enough to draw blood - he had the nerve to bite a fucking vampire who had him pinned to a wall. Spike felt an unexpected surge of laughter bubbling up in his chest and almost wished that he didn't need to head back to Sunnydale. He really hadn't expected the lawyer to be so much fun.

It would be very easy to get fixated on this precious little piece of flesh, all bottomless courage and fractured amorality. Spike had a pretty good suspicion that the lawyer didn't realise how vulnerable he still was, how much further there was yet to fall.

Keeping Lindsey's hands pinned firmly to the wall with his left hand, Spike traced a line down the lawyer's jaw, stroking his throat possessively and enjoying the involuntary shudder that shook the boy's body at that contact. As his tongue continued to fuck Lindsey's mouth Spike trailed his hand down over the powder-blue shirt and felt how firm the young body was beneath his fingertips with a growing sense of satisfaction. Young Lindsey obviously worked out, which was remarkably thoughtful of him. When he reached the lawyer's fly and popped the button he could feel Lindsey's whole body grow tense and his lips curved into a smile mid-kiss as he lowered the zipper and his hand slipped into the other man's pants. Boxers; he considered making a joke about legal briefs, but couldn't be bothered.

After a little while Lindsey made a small sound in the back of his throat that the vampire simultaneously heard and felt reverberating through their tangled tongues. Sure as hell sounded like sex to him. The vampire continued to work Lindsey's cock and explore his warm mouth for a few moments. Then, reaching a decision, Spike pulled his lips away from the lawyer and moved his head back far enough to be able to look at the other man properly. Lindsey's eyelids were a little heavy, his eyes a little lost-looking, drugged-looking, slow-burning now rather than sparking angry blue fire. Spike kissed him again, couldn't help himself, and then moved his mouth up against the boy's ear while his cool fingers continued to stroke the drooling cock knowingly.

"You know, it's your lucky day. I've decided I'm not going to kill you, pet. Call it a whim, but I think the world is more fun with Lindsey McDonald in it·and I really like the idea of you getting one over on Angelus."

Lindsey blinked owlishly at him, his lips still parted and his breathing ragged. Whatever was going on in the boy's head, Spike could see that this was pushing all his buttons; not just the physical caresses, but something deeper. Lindsey McDonald knew full well that he was pressing flesh with a vampire, but something inside him clearly craved this perilous intimacy. Another mad bastard - but Spike was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He could work with this.

"I think we could have a little fun here," Spike added in his most seductive voice, practically a purr, "If you've got the balls for it·so if I let go of your hands, are you going to try to run away, cowboy?" Pure challenge, there - an unmistakable gauntlet and one that he felt sure Lindsey would be unable to resist.

"You're just going to have to find out, aren't you?" replied the lawyer fiercely - but his carefully modulated voice was stripped down to a husky drawl that was pure wanton molasses. Spike knew all about dancing on precipices, knew all about self-destructive urges.

Mine.

And when Spike released his hold on Lindsey's wrists and brought the hand down to cup his chin and pull him into another kiss, the lawyer's hands stayed raised up against the wall for several long seconds. Then they slid slowly down and one hand was cupping Spike's backside and the other was holding the nape of his neck and Lindsey McDonald was kissing him again. Hard, like he was proving a point - and he still didn't smell much like fear. The vampire decided that this boy did have some sort of death-wish after all, because that was a spectacularly stupid reaction. He liked it, but it was spectacularly stupid. Anyone with half a brain cell would've tried to bolt, and he was very probably going to eat the bloke, whatever he'd said - because he was a fucking vampire after all and that's pretty much part of the job description.

(But not just yet...)

Spike let his mouth move lower, burying his cool face into the soft skin at the base of Lindsey's throat, licking it hungrily, sucking at it to raise the blood up just beneath the surface. It took a real effort of will to keep his game face at bay with the sweet smell of the blood filling his nostrils, blending with the undercurrent of Lindsey's sudden burst of fear (About bloody time, pet), but he managed to maintain the human facade and didn't try to break Lindsey's skin yet. Enjoyed drawing the moment out further and dragged his wet mouth down over the taut skin of the lawyer's torso. Paused to suckle at one firm little nipple and still didn't bite down but God, God, Spike had got a hard-on the size of Big Ben by this point and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep playing this game. Patience, like prudence, had never been one of his stronger points.

Cold pressure of the tip of his nose rubbing against the lawyer's belly and Spike's tongue circling the little dip of his navel, short prickly curls scratchy against his chin. He tugged roughly at the expensive pants so they slid down to Lindsey's knees. One of Lindsey's hands pressed palm-down onto the rough concrete wall, the other buried in the vampire's bleached hair. Lindsey's cock was in Spike's hand, the slick head pressed wetly against Spike's throat, the vampire's knuckles grazing his own chin. Spike's other hand cupped around the lawyer's deliciously firm arse, fingers curling into the crevice between the cheeks.

Spike was crouching now, his black duster puddling on the ground, and after a moment he looked up through his eyelashes at Lindsey's torso (Beautiful) and met the lawyer's smoky gaze with a wickedly challenging look of his own - both seductive and dangerously unpredictable. He drew his mouth down and licked the pre-cum from the tip of Lindsey's cock, a darting flicker of a kiss that drew another shudder from the boy. He looked into Lindsey's eyes again and admired their dilated pupils smugly.

"I give the best head you have ever imagined," said Spike matter-of-factly, daring Lindsey with his sexiest predator's smile. Russian roulette. "You want to get close to Angelus, don't you? Shall I show you how he likes it?"

Watched the lawyer's nostrils flaring with the knowledge that this was jumping out of a plane with absolutely no idea of whether the parachute would unfurl. Over waters that were very, very probably full of sharks.

Knew that the lawyer would jump anyway.

"Show me," said Lindsey, almost a snarl.

Oh, but he was such a honey-trap for Angelus, this one - they couldn't have designed a more tempting treat for him to obsess over. Spike's tiresomely self-righteous Sire might just find himself caught with his soul down round his ankles again, if he got a proper whiff of this luscious little lawyer. He was entirely too much fun to kill just now.

Really must try to remember not to kill him·

Spike knelt down, took the boy's erection into his cool, wet mouth and promptly demonstrated the undeniable superiority of undead blowjob technique. Not needing to breathe was a definite advantage, as was the supernatural strength. And the ability to open one's throat right up and welcome the visitor right on in, like you were trying desperately to kiss the other man's pubic bone. Like you were about to bite the erection right off at the root. Like you were going to try to suck all his innards wetly out through his cock.

Of course, being beaten to a bloody pulp by your Sire (OK, Grand-Sire, fine, whatever) until you'd got it absolutely perfected was what really clinched it. Vampire homelife - no, really not very much like any episodes of 'The Waltons' that Spike had ever seen.

Lindsey's breathing became more ragged and a small, helpless sound was coming from deep inside him as the vampire built up the rhythm of suction and tongue wet against his flesh. He idly wondered whether to bite down as his exploring tongue made the boy moan above him.

The hand on Lindsey's arse moved, fingers slipping down, finding the sensitive spot, touching it just right and then pushing up into the hungry heat inside the lawyer.

Spike's mask slipped for a moment. Game face. Lindsey promptly came into the fanged mouth, his hips bucking helplessly against the cold concrete wall, his flesh brushing against suddenly-sharp teeth that made the smallest of slices at the base of his cock and drew blood·

Spike's reaction was pure instinct then - he clamped his mouth over the deflating organ and sucked. The blood spilling from the small cuts was rich with sex and layered with belated fear (still not much, though, for fuck's sake!) and Spike was starting to lose himself altogether, thinking that maybe he would just snap his jaws shut and sever the flesh after all, enjoy the arcing pump of emptying arteries·

Opened yellow eyes and stared foggily at the warm skin right in front of him, felt the pulse racing, still far from dangerous levels of bloodloss - just getting started, really. But Spike had drunk plenty of blood already this evening, could just about manage to exert uncharacteristic self restraint if he wanted to let the lawyer live. Still suckling at Lindsey's cock he tried to focus on the decision, reminded himself why it would be a good idea not to kill the boy.

He let the cock slide free with a wet, messy sound and nuzzled the lawyer's groin, enjoying the scratchiness against his face before he bit neatly into the soap-scented skin just next to the sweetly vulnerable tangle of hair. Heard Lindsey gasp. Smiled as he drank, enjoying the panicked fluttering of the boy's pulse and knowing that he would leave a perfect bite mark, a 'Spike-Was-Here' calling card for Angelus.

A moment later he pulled his mouth away from the man's torn flesh and rocked back on his heels. Stood up with boneless and predatory grace, licking his fingers. Shook his head like a wet puppy, slipping back out of game face. Smiled.

See, he could do self-restraint. Remembered not to kill the bugger.

Lawyer was still bloody gorgeous, looking dishevelled and thoroughly undignified as he hitched his trousers back up and fumbled shakily with the remaining buttons of his shirt. Slightly bruised-looking now, lips swollen, decidedly un-smug and a little trembly around the edges but definitely unbeaten. Maybe a little bent //Ha!// but certainly a long way from broken. Good to go. Looking sore and about ready to stake Spike where he stood, but still giving out great whiffs of lust along with the anger.

Luscious.

Spike stepped right up to Lindsey McDonald, one hand on either side of the boy's body, pinning him back to the concrete. His own trousers were rucked down over his hips, allowing his rigid erection to nudge unmistakably against the boy's bare stomach. He watched Lindsey's eyes widen again, enjoyed the little hitch in his breathing.

"Oh, you know we aren't finished yet, Pet. It's Spike's turn."

There was a charming little pause as the lawyer stared back at him, palpably trying to weigh up his non-existent options. He was beginning to appreciate his own mortality, and Spike thoroughly enjoyed watching the boy wake up and smell the metaphorical coffee. "Now then, I told you I wasn't going to kill you, Lindsey McDonald. I'm going to be really hurt if you don't take me at my word." He enunciated each word very precisely and his tone was deceptively playful. Dangerous. Spike didn't actually have a clue whether or not he was going to kill the boy - thought he probably would, because old habits were hard to break, whereas breaking humans was ridiculously easy·but he did like the idea of leaving this one to tempt Angelus. Soul-boy was just no bleeding fun at all.

He seized the dishevelled lawyer's tie and used it to drag Lindsey over towards his car. Half expected the boy to fight him or make a break for it, but there was no resistance and in a very short time he had Lindsey McDonald bent facedown over the hood of his company car with his legs parted and his pants down around his ankles. Still no resistance. After a moment Spike realised that they were directly in front of one of the little CCTV cameras and he laughed out loud.

"Are you expecting the cavalry to come dashing to your rescue?" he whispered delightedly into the boy's ear. The vampire's wet tongue darted out cat-quick and licked the soft little shell of flesh. "Or maybe you think you're going to appear on 'When Vampires Attack'?" Knew from the lawyer's reaction that he'd hit the nail on the head. "Nobody's coming, pet," he explained softly, vastly entertained. "I drank the security guards and killed their pet demon. It's just you and me, Lindsey McDonald." And the boy did try to get away then, swearing viciously under his breath and struggling with all his strength - but Spike was ready for him.

"Lindsey, I know you want this. I can smell it on you," the vampire said reasonably. To which the lawyer's only response was to struggle more violently and snarl a decidedly unromantic - and anatomically impossible - suggestion. Balls of solid steel, thought Spike appreciatively as he twisted the lawyer's arm up painfully behind his back and forced his face down onto the cold metal. If Lindsey kept bucking his firm little bare ass so violently against him, Spike was going to come before he'd even gotten inside. He wriggled, shoving the boy's thighs back apart as he struggled to escape, and slipping one slick finger into the tight little opening before the lawyer could react. Heard him gasp again, but not in pain. Tart. And a few moments later he was thrusting up into the welcoming heat inside Lindsey McDonald and grinding his face down against the chilly surface of the car·and it had been too bloody long since he'd had a good shag. Harm was enthusiastic enough, but she was so damned fluffy that she took half the fire out of it. He'd never met a less demonic demon in his life - the girl was quite unbelievably vanilla. And so breathtakingly stupid!

Lindsey McDonald was mad as hell, but there was no disguising the fact that he was also thoroughly aroused. The vampire could smell the rekindled desire on the other man, but it was mixed in with a lot of anger and a measure of fear. Spike grinned ferociously as he pounded the lawyer up against his own car, enjoying the firm clench of the muscles wrapped around his cock as he slid roughly in and out and in again. Realised that he was in game face again, although he wasn't sure when his mask had slipped. He'd released Lindsey's arm but was gripping the boy's hips with a degree of force that would leave matching sets of bruises on either side of his body.

Fuck, that's·oh!·Oh yes, God·.

Knew he was hurting the lawyer. Quite a lot. Which made it so much sweeter. And it didn't take long for him to come this time - he'd been about ready to pop even before he squeezed inside the boy. Between the sweet tightness of the lawyer's hot little arse and the half-stifled moans of pain and pleasure Lindsey was making as he bucked under the vampire, Spike was carried to the edge very quickly. And as he finally came into the boy, the face that he saw in his mind's eye wasn't Drusilla, it was Angelus.

As he adjusted his clothes, Spike felt rather proud of himself for sticking to the plan - there was a first time for everything. Against all the odds it turned out that Lindsey was still alive, and this was a good thing - because if anything in LA was going to fuck royally with Angel's mind and tempt him from the straight and narrow path of boring martyrdom back to the fun-filled Dark Side of The Force, it was surely Lindsey McDonald. Better than the messed-up little Mick sidekick and better by far than the apple-pie cheerleader.

Meanwhile Spike had a pressing engagement with The Slayer.

He watched the lawyer's gorgeous arse disappearing from view as the boy tugged his pants back up. He was moving stiffly. Spike knew that he'd hurt him. He also knew that the boy had come a second time - demonstrating a positively vampiric refractory period. Somewhere along the line it seemed that he'd managed to rip the lad's jacket almost in half, a fact that Lindsey was just taking on board. Looking like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, the lawyer turned to face Spike and squared his shoulders a little shakily. He was bruised and bleeding and half the buttons had gone from his shirt, but he still managed to muster a shadow of his former cockiness.

"I'll bill you for the jacket," he said, his clear azure gaze meeting Spike's challengingly.

Balls of solid steel!

The little lawyer was not expecting to have his chin clasped with bruising strength by an undead hand, nor to find himself on the receiving end of a ferocious little kiss, tasting his own cum and blood on the vampire's tongue as his body was shoved unceremoniously back against the car again and Spike's hips ground into him and the vampire's hands slid down inside the back of his pants and squeezed his aching arse possessively.

Still kissed Spike right back, matching fire for fire.

Oh, what the fuck· Spike slipped into game face again, to nip at Lindsey's tongue and drink from his mouth - like kissing Dru. Or Angelus

OK, stop now. Stop Now! He was not trying to kill the little lawyer. Or Turn him. Although - Mmmm - no, stick with the plan. No more partners, lone wolf against the world·Stick with the sodding plan! OK, Stopping. Stopping now.

Spike forced himself to step away. Smiled. He was sure that his Sire wasn't going to be able to resist this one, and that was reason enough to leave him alive. "For the jacket - keep the change, pet, you've earned it," he said maliciously, slipping a few of his newly-acquired hundred dollar bills into the lawyer's breast pocket, relishing the rush of blue fury in his pretty eyes. An uncharacteristic display of largesse, but worth it for that look on the boy's face - and he had plenty of other hundred dollar bills stuffed into his own pockets now. He could afford to be flash.

He cupped Lindsey's cheek gently with his left hand and enjoyed the mixture of vulnerability and rage on the lawyer's face for a moment as his thumb pressed tenderly into the full lower lip. "Next time you see Angelus, you give him my love."

Spike reckoned his Sire would either drink the lad or Turn him - but either way Angelus was surely going to fuck the lawyer's brains out at some point. He'd wager his coat on it. And he had gotten there first.

He turned his back on Wolfram and Hart and strode cheerfully away, black coat flapping in his wake.

Now to deal with The Slayer.


End file.
